You'll Die. Period.

The is the true story of the time my father explained my period to me. Every time I tell this story, he gets mad because he says it's not true. But it is true, he just doesn't want anyone to know what a heathen he is. And I have always felt obliged to tell it to the world.

When I was twelve, I started my period in Literature class and had no flippin idea what was going on. I had heard some of the girls talk about this secret club they were in, but I was pretty sure this wasn't it, because who'd wanna be in that shitty club?

Back in the day, we didn't get sex ed or health class until sixth grade, so I didn't recall hearing anything about this particular phenomena. I was scared.

So I went home and my dad was lounging in his favorite chair. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "Dad, I need to go to the doctor."

Dad: "What's wrong?"

Me: "I'm bleeding."

He looks up, interested. "Where?"

Me: "Uhhh..." I kind of look down. Then back up at him.

He leans up in his chair, very slowly, restraining a half-assed smile. "Uhh...shit. Don't tell me they haven't talked about this at school."

Me: "Talked about what?"

Dad: "Son of a bitch." He laughs for what seemed like a really long time. "Well sit down."

He leaves and returns with my childhood toys. What were once called pirates and ships had now apparently become tampons and pads. Suddenly I realized why my mom got onto me when I played with them on the front porch. Because they were a part of something evil. Tampons and Ouija boards...not to be fucked with.

So my dad tells me a little something about each of them and then goes into appropriate detail on the basic mechanics of how this stuff works. He then assures me he doesn't know the specifics about the fancy ones, like the ones that have wings and such. He tells me I'll have to take that up with my mother, but for now this should do.

scared girl

I guess he thought he was done. That that was the grand finale of this conversation, but I'm sorry. This was a blow to the plans I had for my life. I'm twelve and this thing is bullshit. I had questions!

Me: "Why am I having this?"

Dad: "Beats the shit out of me. All girls have it."

Me: "Till when?"

Dad: "Every month. Till you get old."

Me: "What?! Why?!"

Dad: "Didn't you ever read the story about Adam and Eve?"

Me: "That story was about a snake and an apple."

Dad: "Nothing gets by you."

Me: "I don't get it."

Dad: "Well that's just the way it goes. First your money, then your clothes."

Me: "What?"

Dad: "Anyway, do you have any more questions?"

I did have another question. It was the most important question I had ever asked in my life, and my dad would be the person to answer it. We were about to make a memory.

Me: "Well Dad. Does your blood replace itself?"

He looks me straight in the eye.

Dad: "No. After a few more of these, you'll die."